I Carry Your Heart With Me, by e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

~e. e. cummings

You can listen to my attempt at poetry reading HERE>>>> i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart).

This is one of my favorite poetry pieces from Edward Estlin Cummings, a poet who has published almost a thousand poems. How prolific, eh?

For some reason this poem reminds me greatly of Neruda's Sonnet XVII. Both make me think: This is how one should love, if one should love at all! Just one heart, one soul...there is no I, nor you.

And I am not sentimental...

Soneto XVII by Pablo Neruda

Because I know no other way...

It is beautiful.
Here is the English translation from poemhunter.com.

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.



My attempt at poetry reading:

Click HERE to listen to Sonnet XVII (English, eh?)

Click HERE to listen to Soneto XVII (Original)




Pablo Neruda  (July 12, 1904 – September 23, 1973), born Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto was a Chilean poet, diplomat and politican. For me, he was a poet above all else.